


red

by aceaaronminyard (necklace)



Series: pride challenge [5]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Blood, Broken Bones, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Torture, it. ends up soft?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:16:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necklace/pseuds/aceaaronminyard
Summary: he knows all of their names by three weeks in and laila throws away every single piece of red clothing jean owns, keeps the black, and buys him a powder blue sweatshirt just slightly too big for him.





	red

life has not been kind to him, and jean can recognize that. he knows the shapes and colors of abuse, knows how his own blood tastes more than any of his favorite foods, can understand that sometimes when he's angry for no reason the late riko moriyama is probably to blame. 

 

but life is trying to redeem herself, jean thinks. she'll need to try a little harder if she wants him to forgive her for the good decade and change he was considered nothing more than moriyama property.

 

her first blessing comes with the trojans, with the taste of sweat instead of blood and the gorgeous people that come with the team. he knows all of their names by three weeks in and laila throws away every single piece of red clothing jean owns, keeps the black, and buys him a powder blue sweatshirt just slightly too big for him.

 

(he is proud to say that when gifted with the pastel thing, he had stripped himself of his trojan's sweater and slipped the blue monstrosity on. 

 

jeremy looked at him like jean was the sky holding up his sun. jean just rolled his eyes and told himself not to look too into it.) 

 

speak of the devil, life's second blessing is jeremy knox, and jean wants nothing more than to touch him. for a man who's touch starved, borderline touch adverse, jean thinks this might be a step in the right direction.

 

(life doesn't take away his depression, which, shame, but she does give him the means to receive medicine for it. he'll take what he can get, he's trying very hard to forgive her.) 

 

the first real setback since life decided she wants to like him comes after practice one day. it's the off season, so there's no threat of a game looming above the trojan's heads, but it disappoints jean enough to force him to reel his thoughts back in check as soon as he hears the snap of bone breaking. 

 

it's nothing major. the two bones in his left wrist cave under the force of a backliner as tall as he is; friendly scrimmages can turn sour even on the nicest team on the league. he doesn't think too much about it.

 

during the small time out where they flag the backliner, he braces his elbow on his stomach, removes the glove from his right hand with his teeth, and shoves the bones back into place, all over the confines of his uniform.

 

his left hand shakes something fierce when he puts his glove back on with it, but he pushes through it, waving away any concerns and picking his racquet back up. he has a scrimmage to win and he refuses to let something as trivial as a broken wrist stop him from playing. 

 

the setback  _really_ comes after he's changed out. jeremy looks nauseous when he points out the swelled appendage in the locker room. 

 

"what?" jean asks, before looking down. "oh. that. it broke today at practice." 

 

"it broke," jeremy says, carefully calm. jean tenses subconsciously. 

 

"yes. both of the bones," jean responds warily, mimicking jeremy's tone. It's always better to tell the truth in these situations, especially with some of the guys frowning in the background, shifting from foot to foot. 

 

"as in, when darry slammed into you he broke both of the bones in your wrist. and you didn't say anything immediately." 

 

"that's what i said, yes," jean gathers up enough confidence to say it boldly. he looks away as soon as jeremy's eyes harden. jean knows, theoretically, it isn't aimed at him. he knows that. realistically, he is waiting for his arm to be rebroken. 

 

it's a tense few seconds, but then jeremy sighs, long and tired and drawn out. "alright," he starts. "i'll take you to the nurse." 

 

jean bites his tongue, nods. he tosses his duffle over his shoulder with his good arm and follows jeremy out without complaint. 

 

they walk across campus in silence, mostly. jean's footsteps are quiet, as they've always been, and for once jeremy doesn't say anything about jean being otherworldly for it. 

 

by the time they get to the medics, it's already dark and jean is tired enough that he doesn't want to walk back to the dorms. jeremy pauses before they go into the building, however, so jean stops, turns, then heads towards where he's waiting. 

 

"you look troubled," jean warbles. he's starting to feel the pain, and is conscious of the fact his accent has deepened. he coughs, looks away, rights the wrong. "you understand i am fine, and have played through worse injuries." 

 

"it's not that. i mean, it  _is_ that, but it's not? um," jeremy coughs. jean can't see very well in the lost light, but jeremy looks like he's blushing. jean, automatically, starts blushing as well. "i just. i wanted to tell you that you don't live like them anymore. your... your medicine seems to be working. you've got us to back you up. you have a support system that loves and cares for you. i don’t wanna... push you into doing anything, but jean. we can't help you with the physical injuries if you don't tell us about them." jeremy pauses, as if the words weigh heavily on his tongue. "i want you to be as safe as possible here. i am your captain and your roommate and. and your f-friend." 

 

jean looks,  _really looks_ , at jeremy. his tanned skin is almost entirely beet red, down to his chest, and he's not trying to avoid jean's eyes but there's embarrassment in his sentiment. 

 

jean, six-foot two jean, bends down and presses a kiss onto jeremy's red forehead. "thank you," jean says. 

 

(he can feel the heat of his own blush all the way down to his toes in pulses. it's a lot more pleasant than jean has any right to feel.) 

 

"life has not been very kind to me, but that's alright. she's given me you. i suppose i could try to communicate better," jean offers. it's the most he can try and promise, even a year and a half after the ravens. "now," he coughs, turning away, "let's go inside. my wrist is kind of sore." 

 

(what he doesn't say is: i'd like to be more than friends, too.)

**Author's Note:**

> find us both at [@aceaaroniscanon](http://aceaaroniscanon.tumblr.com)!!!
> 
>  
> 
> [prompt colors](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/161333621945)


End file.
